Power Struggle
by Leyta
Summary: ONE SHOTWhy is yura how she is? my ideas


A new fanfic is started! YAY!!!!!!!!! Everybody jumps up and down especially the author. At this point I'm pretty sure it's going to be one shot. I don't want a short two or three chapter story and there isn't enough to make it longer. I don't feel that sorry for Yura.  
  
Disclaimer: Look it up in the dictionary. Whatever it says I say too.  
  
Power Struggle  
  
It all begins with the wild thief Onigumo. If there were any way to find out where he is, he would be a dead man.  
  
My teacher was away ending to a wounded man in the village. We, as mikos lived on the outskirts of the village where no one noticed the thief sneak in. Except for me. I was sleeping when he snuck inside, but I heard him eating our food in our kitchen.  
  
"What are you doing? Do you live hear? Is this your food? Are you a miko?" I know I should offer all the food he needs, shelter, and a bit of gold, but I couldn't bring myself to.  
  
He grinned wolfishly at me "No, but I'll take it anyways. You don't mind, do you?" he asked picking up his knife.  
  
"N-no"  
  
"Good, then I'll be going." He swept some bread into his sack, already loaded with-  
  
"You can't take all that, they're sacred," I cried.  
  
"Here you can have this in return. I picked it up from an oni that got in my way. It's no use to me," he said tossing me a small red comb.  
  
I screamed in fury. How dare he! I grabbed the oni sword we were trying to purify and slashed at him making a large cut on his arm. He started running, and disappeared into the shadows.  
  
I collapsed on the ground. How could I do that? I tried to convince myself that I felt bad, but in truth I was glad of what I had done.  
  
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It was then that I realized the error in my ways. I had always longed to be powerful, but being a miko wasn't the right way to go about it. The comb, and the sword. They both radiated power.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I started running out into the forest. Trying to get that thought out of my head. Unconsciously I picked up the comb and the sword, carrying them with me. I ran and ran, normally I wouldn't be able to do this, but the sword gave me endurance. It was well past dawn when I stopped. My clothes were an awful mess, stained and ripped. I couldn't wear them any more. Maybe with the unripped parts I could make something. I had no thread. I realized how desperate the situation was and stared to sob, I brushed my hair out of my face. My hair... it was thick and silky, and very fine. Could I... it was an awful mess though. I picked up the comb and stared brushing it. I didn't realize it at the time but I was giving my soul to that comb.  
  
When I finished brushing it I picked up the sword and tried to cut my hair off, but I couldn't. I wondered about that. It wasn't that the sword was dull, on the contrary it was sharp and it had cut Onigumo. So why wouldn't it work for my hair? I vaguely noticed that normally I would have been sobbing by now, but I was just curious. Then I remembered the knife in my pocket. Luckily it hadn't fallen out, so I cut my hair off with that.  
  
I wasn't going to use it as thread there was enough of it to make a whole new outfit. Granted, it wouldn't be very covering, but...I started to weave. I was totally stuck on my task for the next three days. By then I had realized I had given my soul to my sword but I did not care much. All I wanted was power.  
  
The garment I made fit and I sort of liked it. It was nothing like what I would have worn before... but I liked it.  
  
I realized I hadn't eaten for three days, and I was hungry. Sort of. I left the woods and I found a path where a man was traveling. I smiled and walked up behind him holding my sword. In one quick slash I cut off his head. He made a short noise, almost a scream and his head was gone.  
  
"Oh my, oh me" I said mockingly, "did I hurt you? I'm sorry!"  
  
"I noticed that his hair remained perfect although it should be cut. That puzzles me. But not too much.  
  
"What nice hair you have, my pretty." I took up my knife and slowly, painstakingly separated the skin from the skull, the hair from the skin. Then I soaked the skull in my blood making it become red. Making it match my comb, making it match the holder of my soul. Without realizing it, I put some of my soul in the skull.  
  
I kept the hair.  
  
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Every day I killed more and more people. With each slash of the sword I felt myself getting stronger. But I had in my mind a much bigger goal, a goal that would give me more power then I have ever dreamed of. The Shikon No Tama. The jewel of four souls.  
  
My home was made of hair. It started out small but got bigger, bit by bit.  
  
Then, one day, the Shikon jewel disappeared. It was supposed to be mine! How dare that witch have it burned with her body.  
  
Now, fifty years later the jewel has resurfaced again. Finally. Soon it shall belong to me. I pick up my red scull "Oh my, Oh me" I purr.  
  
***AN you know what happens after that. I hope you liked it. Moonweaver*** 


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